Children of The Stellar Severance

But when you have nothing left to lose," I said, the words coming out with newfound conviction, "you realize you have everything to gain. Even the smallest victory, the tiniest flicker of hope, becomes everything." I clenched my fists, feeling the power surge through me once more. 

"And a man with nothing to lose," I continued, my voice low and steady, "is the most dangerous of all." The weight of my words hung in the air as if they carried the weight of everything I had endured and everything I was about to become. 

I rolled my shoulders, feeling the tension of confinement melt away with each movement. My eyes locked onto the forsaken creature; its grotesque humanoid form was now trembling under the weight of my resolve. It had been certain of its victory, but now, it saw the change—I had nothing left to fear, nothing to hold me back.

I had managed to harness my powers and form an aetheric core—a feat that marked the turning point of my existence. In doing so, I set myself on the Divine Pathway, symbolizing order and harmony. This pathway is reserved for those who succeed in their awakening, proving themselves capable of mastering the raw, untamed energy without succumbing to its corruption. 

In contrast, the Forsaken Pathway looms as a grim reminder of the alternative fate. Those who falter during their awakening—unable to withstand the chaotic storm of their aether—are pulled into the abyss of corruption. The Forsaken Pathway leans toward chaos, a path of raw, untamed power that mirrors the torment and instability of those who walk it.

The formation of my aetheric core was no simple feat—it was a crucible of torment, forcing me to confront my deepest fears and wrestle control from the energy that sought to consume me. It wasn't just about survival; it was about mastery, about forging harmony between my soul and the raw power within.

But I did it. My core now pulsed with the steady energy of an Order 1 being, marking me as an awakened. 

Deep within, amidst the surge of energy coursing through me, I felt something else—something far more profound. My core wasn't the only discovery I made at that moment. For the first time, I felt the presence of my soul, vivid and unshakable, like a quiet beacon in the vast unknown.

It was beautiful. A radiant entity shimmering with hues of grey, silver, and purple, its ethereal form took the shape of a humanoid being, hovering just at the edge of my awareness. It wasn't merely a reflection of myself but something more profound—something eternal. It pulsed gently, like the rhythm of a heartbeat, radiating a quiet authority, as though it had always been there, waiting for this moment.

The soul was more than just an essence. It was a conduit, a bridge between my mortal self and the core now brimming with unfathomable energy. In that moment of clarity, I understood something instinctive: while a soul could exist without a core, a core could not survive without its soul. The soul was the intermediary, the keeper of balance, channelling the immense power of the core into something my body and mind could endure. Without it, I would have been overwhelmed, consumed by the forces awakening within me.

As I gazed upon it—felt it—it seemed alive, aware. The hues of its form shifted and swirled as if responding to my thoughts, my emotions, and the immense energy I now carried. For all its radiance, it wasn't flawless; faint cracks and scars laced its surface, subtle yet undeniable. These were marks of a lifetime spent enduring, reminders of trials overcome and the weight of existence borne.

And yet, despite those imperfections, it shone brilliantly, resolute and unyielding. It guided the energy of the core, weaving the vast forces of space, time, and dreams into something I could hold, something I could harness.

Runes slowly etched themselves onto my soul, the sensation pulling me back into reality. I blinked, my gaze locking onto the Forsaken ahead. The marks burned with purpose, as if each symbol carried the weight of the insights I had gained during the awakening. I could feel them weaving together, forming something new—a soul ability unique to me, a reflection of the power I now wielded.

My arm shot forward without thinking, as though guided by instinct alone. A surge of energy coursed through me, and in an instant, a sword materialized within the palm of my hand. It was breathtaking—majestic and alive with an otherworldly brilliance. The blade's surface shimmered in shifting hues of deep purple, so radiant and dynamic it seemed to change with every flicker of light or movement of my gaze.

It was long and double-edged, its length spanning over half my wingspan, with edges so sharp they seemed to cut the very air around them. 

I wasn't given time to see the abilities of the blade, as the forsaken drawed upon the blood of the gaurds and matched me with a sword… a great sword would be more accurate, it was massive being atleast seven feet long and one foot wide.

Not wanting to wait a moment longer, I surged forward toward the Forsaken, the blade in my hand pulsing with aetheric energy. The energy coursed through my veins, igniting every fiber of my being with a strength I had never known. My movements felt both natural and otherworldly, as though I was no longer bound by the limits of my mortal body.

 I felt unstoppable for the first time in a long while—a force awakened, ready to confront the darkness before me.

Within moments, I was upon the Forsaken. Our blades clashed in a symphony of sparks and raw energy, each strike resonating like a thunderclap that echoed through the shattered chamber. We moved with blinding speed, our forms a blur as we danced around the room, each of us testing the other's limits.

The Forsaken's blade, jagged and pulsating with a crimson hue, met mine with a force that reverberated through my entire being. Yet, my blade—majestic and ever-shifting in its brilliance—seemed to defy the laws of reality itself, bending space around it with every swing.

We weaved through the remnants of the ruined prison, our movements fluid yet feral. Each strike carried the weight of power newly awakened, and though I was unfamiliar with my ability, instinct guided my every motion. 

For the first time, I felt alive in a way I could barely comprehend. But as our battle raged on, I began to feel the strain—my bones groaned under the force of each blow, and my fingers started to go numb from the relentless grip on my blade.

And yet, it didn't matter. Pain and exhaustion were irrelevant. I didn't stop, nor did I falter in my pursuit. Each strike I delivered carried the weight of my will, a refusal to give in, a defiance born of suffering. 

For a split second, my vision expanded as if my mind reached beyond the present and grasped the threads of possible nows. Flickering glimpses of different scenarios played out before me—paths I could take, outcomes that could unfold. Each vision was vivid yet fleeting, like the turning pages of a book I couldn't hold still.

I saw myself striking a decisive blow, the weight of victory palpable in my grasp. Then, in another thread, I watched my blade falter, the forsaken's strike landing true, a cold finality settling over me. These possibilities surged through my mind, each as real and vivid as the next.

But amidst the chaos of choice, something within me stirred—a force I couldn't fully comprehend. From the endless sea of outcomes, I picked one, an instinctual pull guiding me toward a singular thread. My vision narrowed, the kaleidoscope of possibilities fading as reality coalesced into a single path. 

My head snapped back just in time, narrowly avoiding the blade's deadly tip. In one fluid motion, my open palm shot out, slapping the flat of the sword mid-air. The impact sent a resonating clang through the room, the deflection force rippling up my arm.

The blade wavered, its trajectory thrown off course, and within that one moment of disarray, I Swung my blade in an upward arc.

The forsaken had no time to react before his head was cut clean off and let to tumble upon the cold prison surface. The body fell shortly after adding to the pool of blood of the fallen guards.

And with that, a demonic laugh rumbled from deep within me, reverberating through the sparsely lit cavern. It echoed in the emptiness, reaching only my ears, yet carrying a weight that could drown the room. "You… haunt my dreams. No," I sneered, my voice thick with malice, "but you will find solace in mine. I promise you that."

The sound echoed until I spoke again, my voice thick with contempt. "You dreamt until your dreams ran dry—greed, lust, and ego. But dreams can't be built on such things. They need to be true, true to purpose, true to intent. They need to fit within the realm of possibility... and sadly, yours didn't." I let the words hang in the air, each one heavier than the last. Then, with a smirk, I added, "Don't worry, though. I'll use your dreams for something far better."